A Grave Situation
by Reddwarfer
Summary: Tezuka led a normal life until everything went horribly wrong, but then someone showed up and changed everything. TezukaFuji Zombie!AUHumour


**Beta:** The wonderful, brilliant, lovely, and darling Djin7  
**Notes:** This is an AU. There are zombies. Not Tezuka or Fuji.Don't worry, it isn't angsty, but it's not crack.  
**Disclaimer:** The owners of PoT own PoT. There's a little homage to zombie movies. George Romero, I love you.

Tezuka walked out of the office at exactly ten at night, precisely five hours after he was supposed to leave. He was glad that his employer only trusted him to these tasks. His father was incredibly proud of what he'd accomplished and his mother bragged about him unnecessarily to everyone she knew who had a daughter between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five. His co-workers looked up to him to the point that they always asked him before asking the boss on any important decisions. The whispers around the office suggested that he'd be promoted again soon if he continued the hard work.

It was quite dark out, not surprising, given the time. He sighed. The local tennis pavilion he favoured closed at eight. Tennis, it seemed, would have to wait until tomorrow night. Well, if his boss didn't decided to give him a _very important project_ that needed to be completed _right now_. It wasn't so much that he minded the work; he just missed playing.

Just before he got to his car, an incredibly rude man a head shorter than him, looking behind himself, ran into his right side, almost knocking his briefcase out his hand. The smell about the man was just the slightest bit funny, but Tezuka figured the man must be homeless. He wanted to say something, but by the time he placed his briefcase into the safety of the backseat of his car, the man was already out of sight. Shrugging, Tezuka got into his car, and began to head home. He was hungry, and hadn't eaten since that morning.

He still had a half container of Chinese take-out in the refrigerator.

He sat down on his couch and, sticking his chopsticks listlessly into his lukewarm container of beef and broccoli, and turned on the eleven o'clock news. A female reporter with an unconvincingly serious expression reported that there was an unknown illness reported at three local hospitals.

Changing the channel, Tezuka grimaced. It was a slow news day if they had resorted to reporting on what would likely turn out to be a new strain of influenza. And, he vaguely recalled, wasn't this _reporter_ covering that trashy heiress just last week?

_Unreliable_, to say the least. He flipped the channel twice more before turning off the television. Tezuka didn't even know why he bothered buying cable since he really didn't like television. It, he regarded, tossing the empty box in the trash, was a waste of money.

It was nearly one in the morning by the time he crawled into bed. His boss, it seemed, had a few more items he needed typed up before morning. Tezuka shook his head. He had to stop checking his e-mails before going to bed. His boss depended upon him increasingly each passing week. After another moment's contemplation, he decided that it was all for the best if he wanted to become vice-president before he was thirty.

Tezuka blindly groped for his eyeglasses, setting them on his face, before he turned to eye the still blaring alarm clock. It was already five in the morning, and he felt as if he hadn't slept in a week. He quickly bathed and dressed, wanting to get started on the projects that he'd left on his desk early. If all things went well, he'd reward himself with three hours of tennis after work.

Walking to the car, he heard a few sirens in the distance. He looked up and noticed a small billowing puff of black smoke coming from the east. Putting his briefcase in the backseat, Tezuka hoped sincerely that it wouldn't cause any unnecessary delay for the clients that were supposed to be meeting with them later on today. It was difficult to arrange that meeting, and the restaurant's reservation list was over two months long.

It was only when he was actually driving when he noticed that there was something _off_ about the day. The roads were oddly empty, and two streets from his home he noticed what looked like six wrecked cars lodged precariously on the edge of the street, teetering close to falling down the embankment.

He slowed his car down, trying to find a place to park so he could see if anyone needed help when a woman, bloodied and screaming, launched herself at his window. Deciding there was no one needing help here, Tezuka pressed hard on the gas, driving away as soon as possible. Yes, there was something certainly _off_ about today.

He only managed to drive for another twenty miles before he hit a roadblock his car couldn't get past. Parking, Tezuka warily got out of his car, looking in all directions before he walked towards the area that had the least amount of rubble.

Two steps later and he was looking into the barrel of a gun pointed at him.

"Get that out of my face," he said, annoyed. Tezuka wondered if it was too late to get in his car, turn around, and go back home, more specifically, back to bed. He clearly had woken up on the wrong side of it.

"Oh, you're alive," the man said with a cheerful grin, lowering the gun to his side. His brown eyes twinkled with mirth. Tezuka thought it was highly inappropriate to be smiling so brightly when things were obviously not going as they should.

"Tezuka Kunimitsu," he said, offering his name and his hand, adding almost absently, "and of course I'm alive."

The man shook his hand, warm and gritty with dirt. "Fuji Syusuke. Really? You're the first living person I've seen in at least eight hours."

Raising his eyebrow, Tezuka gave Fuji a sceptical look. "Hmm."

Fuji shrugged, shouldered his shotgun, and started walking off. "You coming?"

He was about to decline when a strange growling noise came from behind him. Turning sharply, he found himself staring into the face of…something that didn't quite still have a face. The man, or at least that's what he thought it was, was ambling toward him slowly. Its foot was bent in an awkward angle, his right arm was missing, a bloodied stump all that remained, and his face looked like it had been chewed by a rather large, rather hungry animal. His eyes widened, and he started to back up in shock, when he felt something breeze past his face, followed by the sound of Fuji's shotgun, and broke the remainder of the thing's face.

After a few moments, Tezuka found the will to move. He turned to say something to Fuji, but he was already walking away. "You coming _now_?" Fuji repeated, and this time Tezuka followed.

He quickly caught up to Fuji's stride, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

"What—," he began, but stopped. He couldn't quite articulate every question that stormed through his mind at the moment, so he settled on silence, hoping Fuji would take it as a cue to talk.

Fuji shifted his gun a little, and smiled at him. "As I said, you're the first living person I've seen in eight hours."

"Oh." How eloquent.

"You all right, Tezuka?" Fuji asked, not really sounding concerned, but interested in the answer anyhow.

Tezuka nodded, feeling vaguely queasy as he remembered the way the brains and blood splattered all over the road and his car. That was something that wouldn't be solved by getting it detailed. "Where are we going?"

Cocking his head to the side, Fuji replied, "Anywhere but here."

"That's your plan?" For the love of…he was not just going to follow someone aimlessly walking the streets for hours on end. They needed a destination.

Fuji gave him a look that stated that the reason was obvious. "Where _should_ we go?"

"The police station, perhaps," Tezuka answered. They had arms and could perhaps offer some sort of protection.

Laughing, Fuji shook his head. "You've not turned on the news, have you?"

"No." They trudged up a hill, overlooking the steep trip down to where the road toward began. It was eerily quiet where they were, and he no longer could hear the sirens.

"Overrun. Same with the hospitals and barracks. Everybody's dead. Or," Fuji said with a wicked grin, "dead-ish."

"Dead-ish," Tezuka repeated, word alien on his tongue. He looked behind him, and saw two figures in the distance. They both had the gait of the man Fuji had shot. Tezuka looked back at Fuji, before turning slightly to the left. "The mall, then."

He didn't like going there on a regular day, never mind at this time, but it was the best choice.

"It's Tuesday. It's usually dead there," Fuji said, before stopping. "That's a rather terrible pun now, I suppose."

Tezuka thinned his mouth into a line. At least that way, he couldn't laugh at the ludicrousness of it all. "Exactly. Let's go," he said firmly, walking fast, Fuji's footsteps coming faster behind him. They were only about three kilometres away from the mall, but who knew what stood between them and what was hopefully a safe location?

Luckily enough, Fuji only had to kill three of the…'creatures' on their trek. Tezuka worried at first that the sound would only bring more to where they were, but it seemed that none were around to be drawn.

The mall's parking lot was blissfully near empty. Only a smattering of cars were there and he didn't hear the telltale groan that these creatures emitted as they moved. It was, perhaps, the second good thing that had happened since he woke up.

They just about neared the door when he stopped Fuji. "Let's not be careless. We don't know what's inside."

Fuji nodded, silently raising his gun. Quietly, they walked toward the door, eyes darting around to see any signs of life. As soon as they entered, Tezuka locked the doors behind them, wanting to make sure the perimeter was secured.

All the doors to the shops were still closed, metal bars down and locked. It was actually a relief. Less places for undead things to hide, after all.

Walking the length of the mall, Tezuka looked all around, knowing that if the front doors were open, but the stores were not, someone at least had to be there. Hopefully, this meant someone was alive. It was too early for the mall to have to have opened normally, considering all that was happening. Tezuka figured that something happened before they managed to lock up the night before.

They locked the second entrance, and doubled back, trying to find the security officer's office for the layout to the mall. A map would likely show all possible entrances and exits, as well as provide keys to the shops.

As they neared the door, Tezuka could hear a faint groaning coming from within the office. He leaned close to Fuji, whispering in his ear, "How many bullets do you have?"

Fuji's face was a slight shade of pink when he turned. "About twenty."

Tezuka took a minute to look away from Fuji's cheeks to look up at his eyes. "Enough, I hope."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a mop sticking out of an industrial yellow bucket. He grabbed it and pushed the door open with the wet end, allowing both of them enough room to see inside without being too close.

Weapon aimed, Fuji fired into the room three times before he lowered his weapon. "All dead-dead."

Tezuka ignored the mess of bodies on the ground and went straight for the desk, grabbing the ring of keys that lay on top of it. He studied the multiple screens showing different parts of the mall, satisfied when he saw no further movement. The map with legend of the mall hung on the wall, spattered lightly with blood. He tore it off the wall and walked out of the room.

"Tezuka," Fuji called from behind him. He turned, and Fuji walked towards him, offering the handle of a small handgun. "You might need this."

"I don't like guns," Tezuka said shortly, hands resolutely gripping the paper map  
.  
Fuji's lips curved into a smile. "You sure? Ah, well, I guess I'll have to protect you."

Scowling, Tezuka took the gun out of his hand, shoved it in the back of his belt, and walked toward an exit diagonal from the office. "Follow me," he commanded when he didn't hear Fuji walking after him.

He could almost hear Fuji smiling, even though nothing more was said.

It took roughly two hours to secure the mall. Then he noticed that there was a rather long, wide blood smear on the floor, near the security office. Tezuka was so busy looking straight ahead when he entered the mall; he hadn't bothered to look at the ground. It seemed to lead from the office all the way to what he figured was the supply closet.

When he opened the door, he saw a man, with the telltale strange mannerisms, twitching on the ground, partially incapacitated. Fuji nudged him with his gun, and Tezuka frowned. "Fuji."

Fuji looked at him with rueful expression. "All right, Tezuka. You take everything so seriously." And with that, Fuji shot it, before looking in the closet to see if anything else moved.

Tezuka looked down at his suit, and frowned even more. Throughout the entire day, he'd managed to stay free of blood and bits of brain, but now his best suit was splattered. Dry cleaning was not going to fix this. He took off his jacket, covering what was once the dead man's face and turned away. "We have much to do."

Locking all of the doors was relatively easy. There were only seven possible entry points in the mall at large. The tricky part came when they searched each individual store for both the living dead and unlocked exits within them.

It did, however, give them enough time to take inventory of all possible supplies. Clothes weren't a problem. There was only one furniture store. It held a hodgepodge of tables, desks, sofas, chairs, and one model bed. It was rather cramped, but a nearby store had plenty of blankets and pillows.

A sporting-goods store held a plethora of weapons and camping gear. Fuji looked positively delighted as he survey the room, taking in every single item that could even remotely be used for a weapon. He made note to find out what Fuji did for a living before the week was out. He had a sneaking suspicion that Fuji wasn't one to let go any of his secrets without a fight

On the other half of the store, Tezuka noticed that they also carried his favourite brand of tennis racquet. He held the newest model in his hand, testing it by swinging it a few times before he put it back down with a sigh. Tennis, it seemed, wasn't on the schedule for the near future.

"Tezuka?" Fuji called from across the store. "Come here for a second."

He wondered if Fuji wanted to show him another type of gun, but Fuji handed him a small black device.

"It's a walkie-talkie," Fuji supplied when he didn't say anything. "These work on radio waves, so even if the phones stop working, we'll be able to use them. Just in case."

Tezuka attached the machine to his belt with the clip. "Thank you. It's a good idea."

Beaming in response, Fuji did the same to his, and went back to the glass counter that held the weaponry with child-like enthusiasm.

The only problems, as far as they could tell, were that there was no telling how long the electricity would be running, or water for that matter. There did appear to be two small generators as back-ups, and the appliance store sold those home versions, but they were small and could not do much. They did have an ample amount of batteries, regular and rechargeable, but they still required electricity to do so. Tezuka figured that they should power down as much of the mall as possible, only using as much power as they needed, if it came down to running only on the generator

The food supplies were both finite and limited. There were a few places in the food court that had fresh food and vegetables, but the majority of what they had available was pre-packaged junk food. Water and other liquids in relatively short supply as well. Still, he didn't exactly care to start urinating off the roof to save water in the bathrooms. He'd have to think about that.

Fuji sighed. "We may need to make a trip to that grocery store across the street."

"I know," Tezuka replied, not really wanting to venture outside, especially after they took such pains to make the mall a fortress.

"I have more bullets now, so we can go whenever," Fuji added, pushing himself up to sit down on the garish counter.

Tezuka, although he really had no desire to leave the premises, knew it would be potentially lethal to procrastinate " Now, before it gets dark or infested."

Sitting in an uncomfortable folding chair, Tezuka took a sip of a drink as he watched Fuji cook.

The food trip took little over six hours. They'd found a minivan with the keys still inside in the parking lot of the store, which made things much easier. Tezuka backed the minivan up to the rear exit of the grocery store, and he and Fuji pilfered everything they could, filling the van to capacity. Then they came back and did it again. Tezuka couldn't count exactly how many trips were made, but the shelves were near empty except for a few items, like diapers, that they'd never need. Fuji did, however, empty the store of all hot sauce and wasabi.

They'd commandeered all of the refrigerator floor models to store the perishables, because there wasn't sufficient rooms in the ones already in the food court malls, and set the canned goods on the many tables in the food court.

"You know how to use one of these?" Fuji had asked, holding up a power drill. They had just finished moving the last refrigerator and were checking if the store had any freezers in stock; they did not.

Tezuka had nodded as he looked at the numerous boxed shelf-kits. They couldn't just have the canned foods sitting around. Order was necessary, and they needed to have their stores organized, just in case.

Fuji placed the plates filled with stir-fry chicken and vegetables in front of them, next to the drinks he'd already procured. He watched in vague horror as Fuji dumped what looked like a quarter cup of wasabi on top of his food. He took a bite guardedly, and relaxed only when he tasted only a slight bite of pepper, which was dampened by ginger.

"Thank you," Tezuka murmured, and Fuji smiled in response. It was a small moment of normalcy when they world had clearly gone crazy.

Fuji dragged a large floor model television into the small store with the furniture after they'd eaten dinner. He spent at least an hour setting it up with the latest gaming systems, DVD player and cable before crawling onto the one bed which Tezuka insisted Fuji take, and turned it on. He patted the piece of bed beside him for a moment before Tezuka begrudgingly joined him, sitting primly on the other side of the mattress.

_It appears that there is no end to the senseless killing that began sometime yesterday morning. The Kantou region is almost destroyed. Experts claim that the population has been decimated by seventy-five percent, and could increase to eighty by nightfall. No one can explain exactly what has been happening, but some religious leaders are using the term Apocalypse._

**_Click_**

_Violence has soared over the past two days in the heart of Kyuushuu prefecture. Sources have stated with certainty that the death rate is hovering closer to sixty-six percent, with likelihood to increase within the hour. Scientists claim that within twenty-four hours the death rate will be at seventy-seven and a half percent. Health officials are baffled as to how quickly it seems to be spread—" _

**_Click_**

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**_Click_**

_Reaction from around the globe keeps pouring in to the news studio this evening. Although numerous countries have standing offers of aid, none are willing to breach the borders and risk a global contamination._

**_Click_**

_A possible reported case of this strange illness has been reported as far away as China, but officials were able to contain it before it spread to the rest of the population. Sources say scientists worldwide are scrambling to find a cure._

**_Click_**

"That was cheerful," Fuji commented idly. He turned on his side, facing Tezuka and smiled thinly. "Want to learn how to shoot tomorrow?"

Tezuka lay back, looking unseeingly at the ceiling. It was almost beyond all comprehension. Within two days, more than half of the population was dead but walking. "Fine."

They went up to the roof after eating breakfast, sometime after dawn. Fuji hung his shotgun off his shoulder with the strap he'd grabbed from the shop and picked a relatively small gun on which Tezuka would learn. A semi-automatic handgun with two extra clips.

"Here," Fuji said, handing him the gun. "First, you take it in your hands, put one hand under the other to steady it, and aim. Don't close your eyes. It'll screw up your shot. Aim at the side view mirror on that green Toyota, and squeeze."

He didn't know where the first shot landed, but it wasn't anywhere near that Toyota. Fuji came around behind him, pressing so close that he almost squeezed the trigger in reaction. Fuji put his hands over Tezuka's, repositioning them properly, and stuck one leg between his. Tezuka fought the urge to close his eyes.

"Spread your legs a bit. Good. Now, shift your hips. Hold your arms steady. And squeeze," Fuji said softly from behind him. This time, he shot a hole right through windshield, now a spider web of broken glass.

Tezuka lowered his weapon. Fuji moved to stand next to him, admiring his first success. "The first thing I ever hit was my neighbour's house. The bullet went through her window and lodged inside of the cactus that was sitting on the sill."

"Hm." Tezuka raised the gun again, steadied his hands, and this time the side view mirror became rubble on the ground.

"A natural, it seems." Fuji took his own gun off his shoulder and aimed it a little bit into the distance, and shot twice. "It seems we've been found."

Tezuka went downstairs and retrieved a pair of binoculars, and came back. He looked in all directions, and saw small pockets of movement coming from all sides. Yes, they'd been found, indeed.

"Let's go hang dark sheets over all of the glass doors," Tezuka didn't know what senses led the creatures to where they were, but he figured that they didn't want to see the corpses anymore than they wanted the corpses to see them. 

"Fuji," Tezuka said with exasperation. "We need to do this, now."

Completely unconcerned, Fuji sighed, flopping down on the ground at his feet. "Tezuka, lighten up. How many do you plan on making?"

Tezuka put the power drill into his tool belt and tested the sturdiness of the shelf. It was perfect, just like the last ten. They had at least six hundred cans of various foods, vegetables, fruits, meats, soups, and other foodstuffs. He wanted to have them arranged according to type so they could foresee how to ration what. They also had many boxes and bags of dried goods. It should the last the two of them for months. He had a three-ring binder and sheets of paper with which he wanted to keep inventory.

"As many as we need."

Fuji got to his knees, sitting on his heels. He ran his hand over the middle partition of the shelf Tezuka had just finished making. "Think you could make me a gun rack, for our room?"

"A gun rack?" Tezuka echoed. He had a sneaking suspicion that Fuji was perhaps an assasin for the Yakuza, but wisely thought the better of asking. Fuji still hadn't told him what he'd done for a living. "Are guns all you think about?"  
Eyes twinkling yet again, Fuji caught his bottom lip between his teeth, focusing on a view direct with his eyelevel. "In a manner of speaking."

Refusing to dignify _that_ with the blush that threatened to rise to his cheeks, Tezuka pulled out the drill again. "Hand me another kit."

As he lay down to sleep that night, he rolled onto his side, facing Fuji, and resolutely not looking at the rather large gun rack that now decorated the wall. He got the feeling that Fuji didn't often experience times when he didn't get his way.

One week after they'd arrived at the mall, Fuji had left him in the food court where he was diligently compiling their food and water supply, and told him that he had _things to do_. Tezuka was curious, but didn't say anything. His walkie-talkie stayed silent at his side, but Fuji had thoughtfully compiled a music selection that made the silence of the world more bearable.

Fuji had come down around noon to make lunch, but left soon after to do who knows what for who knows how much longer. Tezuka kept filling the shelves. He set the last bag of pork rinds on the shelf making a mental note about what he'd eat last. Through the top of the sheet that hung over the door, he could see the sky darkening. It was getting late. He had just begun gathering some ingredients for super when the walkie-talkie came to life.

"Tezuka, come up to the roof." He looked down at the device and wondered why they were going up there at night. He usually only let Fuji go up there for small periods of time. They needed to conserve their ammunitions, just in case the doors didn't hold, or worse.

He pressed down the little button on the side, and replied. "Fine."

The first thing he noticed when he got to the roof was that Fuji had lit a small fire. There were two sleeping bags lined right next to each other and a small assortment of foods and skewers nearby. He fought his initial reaction of reaching for the fire extinguisher that Fuji had set near the door, and walked over to Fuji.

"What is going on?" He asked, looking down at Fuji, whose face was upturned and practically glowing.

"We're camping, Tezuka." Fuji picked up a hotdog, placed it on a skewer, and began roasting it over the small flames, which, he noticed as he got closer, were lit inside of a large wok.

Tezuka sat down next to Fuji, and trained his eyes over the fire, wondering if it was too dangerous to allow it to remain. Something nudged at his hand and he looked to see Fuji giving him his own hotdog and skewer. He put it over the flame, watching what appeared to be a pile of wooden chopsticks likely stolen from one of the restaurants burn.

"What did you do…before?" Fuji asked, jarring him out of his silent contemplation.

He turned his hot dog over. "I was head of risk management assessment in an office."

Fuji hummed in response, and nudged Tezuka's hotdog with his own before removing it from the flames and placing it into a bun. He smeared wasabi down the length of it, and took a bite, obviously enjoying it with relish.

"What did you do?" Tezuka found himself asking. He was curious if it had anything to do with Fuji's preoccupation with guns.

Tossing another handful of chopsticks onto the fire, Fuji paused before answering the question with another one of his own. "Did you like your job?"

"It was what it was," Tezuka replied. It wasn't about like or dislike; it was about doing it to the best of his abilities and advancement.

Fuji picked up a bag of marshmallows, and opened it. He put a few on a new skewer, and placed the bag and another skewer in between them. "It was too nice to stay indoors."

"Hn." Tezuka finished his hot dog, and picked up the skewer Fuji had laid down for him. He didn't usually like too many sweet things, but figured that one marshmallow wouldn't be too much of a bother if it would extend the nice semblance of peace they'd made that night.

"How old are you?" Fuji asked then, seemingly unconcerned with manners.

Tezuka set down the skewer, tipped with the sticky remains of his marshmallow. "I'm twenty-eight."

"You look older," Fuji commented, "but sometimes you seem younger."

"And you?" Tezuka asked, not knowing what to make of Fuji's comment.

Fuji smiled lightly. "I'm seven."

Blinking, Tezuka almost argued before it came to him. "Leap year baby?"

"Yeah. I still have another forty years before I have to worry about growing up." Fuji took the remainders of their food, and put a cooler nearby. He sat back down, but this time it was closer than before. Tezuka could feel the heat from Fuji's body on his side more strongly than the fire in front of him.

"I enjoy camping," Tezuka said finally. "Fishing too," he added after a moment's contemplation.

"I was hoping so," Fuji commented idly. "You did look at home with the drill."

"Are you implying something?" Tezuka turned to face Fuji, noticing the way the light flickered on his face. It wasn't so much the words, but the tone with which they were spoken.

Fuji's lips quirked as he settled down on his stomach on the sleeping bag, and replied, "You just seem like the rugged, outdoorsy type. You ooze...what do they call it in Spanish? _Machismo_."

"What?" Tezuka looked at Fuji blankly for a moment, the foreign word meaningless to his ears.

Grinning, Fuji raised himself onto his elbows. "I bet you wore a vest with fishing lures sticking out of it and carried a large knife."

Ignoring that last comment, he asked, "What did you do?"

"I've always liked photography," Fuji answered, toying with the zipper on the sleeping bag.

Tezuka let a small smile form on his lips. "So, you just like to shoot things."

Fuji looked at him for a moment before he started laughing, rolling onto his back as he covered his mouth to prevent it from escaping.

He lay down next to Fuji after the giggles settled down, and they both stared up at the sky. There weren't many stars visible, but the ones that were, shined brightly.

"I always wanted to capture how this looks, the enormity of it all, but none of my photographs ever did it justice."

"Some things aren't meant to be confined, even within the borders of a photograph."

Fuji hummed to himself a moment. "Do you have anything you'd like to do tomorrow?"

"Perhaps," Tezuka replied. "I have a feeling it might rain tomorrow. It may have to wait another day."

"It would be a bad idea to come out here if it rains."

"Yes."

Smiling, Fuji inclined his head. "We could catch our death."

Tezuka shook his head, suppressing a groan. "Let's get some sleep."

Three hours later, Tezuka woke to Fuji thrashing in his sleep. He reached over and tugged on Fuji's arm to wake him. Fuji rolled over, curling into Tezuka's side and settled down immediately. It was only an hour later that Tezuka found his mind settled enough to follow him.

By silent mutual agreement, neither Tezuka nor Fuji mentioned other people. After one conversation regarding their loved ones brought the realisation that they were all likely dead-ish, Tezuka didn't go on to Fuji about his parents, grandfather, and best friend Oishi. Fuji, in turn, never again mentioned his close friend Eiji or his siblings, Yumiko and Yuuta.

There were times when both fell into silence, and took to their own private spaces in the mall. Fuji always went to the camera store, fiddling with the priciest ones, and took pictures of nothing.

Tezuka went to the hardware store, making cabinets and other cheap kits that neither Fuji nor himself could ever hope to use.

When they joined each other at the end of one of those days, Fuji would make a meal out of one of the cookbooks they'd found. Then Tezuka would bore Fuji with details of the moves in every sports game he'd ever watched, ranging from tennis to American football, until Fuji came over and pushed a piece of whatever he was cooking into his mouth just to shut him up. Tezuka couldn't remember a time when someone wanted to shut him up.

Tezuka sat in one of the cheap plastic lawn chairs that Fuji had set up on the roof. It was a nice day despite the loud rumbling sound that came from below. Fuji leaned over the edge, holstering a semi-automatic weapon of some sort, he couldn't recall the model, and took in the growing masses below.

"There're so many of them. They keep bumping into each other," Fuji mused, looking delighted at the prospect of having so many targets. He raised the gun, shooting at whichever had caught his eye.

Tezuka walked over to him. "There are going to be actually dead bodies littering the ground." He did not want to even imagine the smell of it all. At least the moving ones weren't too bad.

"Let the dead bury the dead," Fuji said with a smirk, and fired at what used to be a woman in a lurid flowery dress.

He picked up the binoculars, looking over the crowd, nothing more than morbid curiosity tugging at him. There was a rather large, short, ugly man with blood coming out of one half-torn ear in the next to one of the light poles. "That looks like my boss."

Fuji looked over with avid excitement. He aimed his gun, peering through the scope, his finger twitched once on the trigger before Tezuka took it out of his hands.

"Tezuka! That shot was a no-brainer," Fuji exclaimed with a faux pout, but he was unable to hide his amusement.

Sighing, Tezuka shook his head. "You and your puns."

He scanned the crowd again, the heavy weight of the high-powered gun in his hand, and aimed. Through the scope, he could see the man again, this time noticing that he had one eyeball hanging out of its socket. Two seconds later, and he was on the ground, others crowding to take his place.

Fuji gave him an approving look that strangely was almost exactly like the look of someone who was undressing another with one's eyes, and grinned mischievously. "I knew you had it in you."

Not knowing whether to take that as an insult or a compliment, Tezuka handed Fuji back his gun and leaned against the ledge. Fuji was sweeping the crowd with his scope already with a sort of intensity that Tezuka doubted Fuji gave many things. It was exhilarating to watch, so he did, not letting anything escape his line of sight.

They both stood still, unmoving. Fuji with his gun, pointing off in the midst of the crowd, and Tezuka staring at the way Fuji's eyes wrinkled when he smiled brightly, hair blowing slightly in the wind. He fought the urge to reach over, and push the loose strands behind Fuji's ear. He couldn't escape, however, that fact that the desire existed in the first place.

The silence between them was just a little unsettling, not the least because it was punctuated with the incessant groan of thousands of undead beings currently crowding the surrounding area. Fuji lowered his gun first, and a small voice in Tezuka's mind declared himself the winner of that particular battle.

"I wish," Fuji began, looking at Tezuka with a wistful expression. Tezuka moved closer, putting his hand over Fuji's, who responded by twining their fingers together. "I wish I had a flamethrower."

Blinking, Tezuka didn't know how to respond to that, unsure whether or not it was a lie. Fuji simply placed his weapon on the floor of the roof and turned to lean on the ledge near Tezuka, not letting go of his hand.

Tezuka looked over the horizon, away from the crowd below, and saw that the thick billows of smoke that had perpetually settled over the sky were beginning to dissipate. His hand felt warm, slightly damp, and far too big. Looking down, he watched Fuji's thumb twitched against his palm. He realised with a start that there wasn't much about his previous existence that he truly missed. He held Fuji's hand tighter.

"There're only four stations left, Tezuka." Fuji said, clicking back and forth amongst them. "All news. Pity, I wanted to know what happened next on that archery anime."

Tezuka put down the book he was reading and turned his attention to the news. A haggard looking reporter was sitting in a half-darkened studio with a mess of papers on her desk.

_Death tolls now range around ninety-five percent, according to best estimates. Money does keep on pouring in, but without manpower to back it up, it remains useless. Keep tuned in, and any updates will be reported immediately._

Other channels were either airing the Emergency Broadcast System or nothing but white noise.

Fuji turned on the DVD player, allowing a blue screen to glow within the room. "Apparently the remaining five percent are news reporters and gasbag politicians. Let's watch a movie."

"What do you want to watch" Tezuka asked, worrying that they'd be sitting through something like Ran.

Picking up a pile, Fuji looked through the choices. "We can watch _Disney's Robin Hood_, _Night of the Living Dead_, or _Boys in Boots: Volume Five._

Tezuka gave Fuji a look, which was, apparently, beyond amusing because Fuji put down two of the cases and opened the third. "_Robin Hood_ it is."

Shifting a little, Tezuka tried to get comfortable on the Hello Kitty beanbag chair that Fuji had given him to sit. They sat in the middle of the toy store, surrounded by garish packages of things that would only a child's interest for a moment's time before they'd be relegated to closets and boxes for charity.

Fuji sat on his own, and smiled at him mischievously. "You need to relax. Enjoy the ambiance."

"Ambiance?" Tezuka took one more glance around the room before he realised that they were surrounded by one face. They were in the Hello Kitty section of the store. Ambiance indeed.

"Here." Fuji partially filled his bowl with sake, and pushed it in front of him, before pouring his own.

"Should there be a toast of some sort?" Tezuka asked, holding his bowl partway to his mouth.

The rim of the bowl pressed slightly into Fuji's bottom lip. "To the living, the dead, and," Fuji paused for a moment, "the living dead."

Tezuka didn't say anything for a moment, just looking at the way the liquid splashed against Fuji's mouth as he waited for him to respond. "To that."

Three drinks later and Fuji was precariously unsteady on his knees. "…And he said,  
'When there's no room left in hell, the dead will walk the Earth.' And, and, and. It's funny, isn't it?"

"Beyond the telling." Tezuka took off his glasses, and noticed no difference in the way his vision rather burred together.

"You're rather cute, Tezuka." He wanted to protest the remark, but he was too busy just staring at Fuji, fighting his urge to argue back and counter with the fact it was Fuji who was the cute one, not him. He was what he was, and Fuji was looking at him in such a way that sent thrill down his body, ending in the space below his belt. He set down his dish just in time to notice Fuji pressing his hands to the ground.

Fuji crawled forward a bit, thoroughly invading his space until he was half sitting on Tezuka's lap and half on his beanbag. Fuji's lips were brushing lightly against his cheek, and he stayed still, not quite frozen in shock, but close.

"Ah." Once again, Tezuka found himself on the wrong side of eloquent. He turned his face toward Fuji's, until he could see the way Fuji's eyelids drooped slightly under the pressure of one too many drinks. He could smell the slight sting of alcohol on both of their breaths as it rose to up to curl into his nose. He leaned forward, pressing his lips to Fuji's without a second thought, and almost pulled back when Fuji's tongue nudged against his.

He cupped Fuji's cheeks, holding his face, as he tasted his lips, and delighted in the way Fuji's body pressed hard against his. The alcohol only burned for a moment before it gave way to the underlying flavour of just _Fuji_.

Fuji moaned into his mouth, fingers tangled in the hair at the base of his neck. He pushed harder against Tezuka, sending them both to the ground, he on his back, Fuji on top of him. Fuji's knees dug into his sides, grinding against him as they continued to kiss. Tezuka wrapped his arms around Fuji, turning them over, and pushing Fuji's against the floor, tugging the beanbag and placing the shallow part underneath Fuji's head.

He captured Fuji's lips again, his body tingling with both too much sake and pure want, and rocked against Fuji until they were both breathless and panting on the floor. It took him a moment to move off Fuji, his body heavier than he could ever recall it being before, and lay down on Fuji's side, tugging him close. Their clothes were wet and sticky against their skin, but any energy either had all but vanished. His last coherent thought was to ask whose turn it was to do the laundry, but he didn't manage to give voice to it.

Fuji burrowed his head against Tezuka's chest, their hands wrapped loosely together, and sighed with the untainted pleasure of someone not concerned with the fate of anyone outside of their own carefully carved-out world. They fell asleep amidst unturned bowls of wasted alcohol, beanbag chairs, and the eerie white glow of Hello Kitty surrounding them. 

"It's not boredom _or_ desperation," Fuji whispered in his ear as he pulled Tezuka close to him, back against the door of the roof. Tezuka didn't know why Fuji felt the need to explain that particular fact with him, but he couldn't deny that he was relieved to hear it. His could feel Fuji's body hard and warm through his wet clothes as the rain pelted them.

The soft groan in his ear, so different from the collective ones from below, caused him to shudder, even as their bodies moved together. Tezuka pulled away from Fuji, only to reply to him in kind and tried desperately not to get lost in the smile he received in return.

The rain felt cold against his skin, contrasting with how every place Fuji touched him almost _burned_. Tezuka sighed into the curve of Fuji's neck, holding him as the tremors shook Fuji's body when he came. Fuji only rested for a moment in his arms, then he moved Tezuka, shoving his back against the wall, and fell to his knees. Swift fingers hastily undid his belt, and he only a had a moment to inhale before Fuji's hot mouth lowered down on his cock, taking in every inch until his nose pressed into hair and skin.

Fuji reached for his hand, and Tezuka clutched onto it fervently, when Fuji swallowed against him, tongue drifting over his length. Fuji's other hand pressed his hip painfully still, roughly against the door. Teeth grazed ever so slightly against his cock, making his breath all but disappear in his chest. Fuji sucked him in again, moaning around him, and he felt himself go, world disappearing into a haze of pleasure as he came inside of Fuji's mouth.

Fuji rested his head against Tezuka's hip, licking at the corner of mouth with his tongue. They both were a little breathless, completely soaked to the bone from the rain. "A little death amongst a lot of death."

Snorting despite himself, Tezuka placed his hand on Fuji's hair, fingers stuck in the wet strands. Fuji really did have the worst sense of humour. "Fuji."

"Hmm?" Fuji seemed content to stay naked on the ground. At first Tezuka didn't mind, but as his mind slowly cleared, it dawned on him that they should maybe go inside.

He opened his mouth to say the sane, logical thing, but instead said, "Nothing."

"Beautiful today, isn't it?"

Tezuka looked down, taking in the wet face, contented smile, and crinkled lines around Fuji's eyes. "It is."

He rolled over, half asleep, only to find mattress underneath him. Raising his head slightly, Tezuka looked around blearily. Fuji, who fell asleep naked and curled against his side, was no longer in their bed. He sat up, reaching for his glasses, and discovered a note taped to the side of the frames.

_Tezuka,  
When did you start to get so lazy?  
Breakfast will get cold._

Fuji.

Tezuka glanced at the clock, expecting to see a late hour of the day, and was mildly annoyed when he realised it wasn't even yet seven. Tezuka sat on the edge of the bed and sighed. There had been too many days of the same for him, and he was feeling restless. He itched to throw on his shoes and go for a run, but Fuji had asked him in that oh so subtle way of his to wait until after breakfast, which was going to be late for if he didn't get dressed.

His clothes were already laid out for him on a chair next to the bed. Tezuka raised an eyebrow at that. Fuji wasn't much for doing things for him that he could do himself, but he figured that Fuji was up to something, and dressing in the clothes would be the least of his worries by the time the day was out. It was only a short-sleeved shirt and a pair of white shorts. It wasn't objectionable like the time Fuji plied him with liquor and attempted to get him to wear a leather corset and matching garter belt. _Drunk enough_ to do that simply didn't exist in his world.

When he got to the food court, Tezuka was hesitant when he saw nothing out of the ordinary. Fuji was sitting at their usual table, reading an old Fullmetal Alchemist manga, and eating some of the sushi he had in front of him.

"Good morning," Fuji said with a cheerful voice. He got up and fetched a plate from one of the refrigerators, placing it across from his. "I swear that none of them have wasabi in them."

Tezuka sat down, and gingerly picked up a piece with his chopsticks. "Thank you and good morning."

Much to his surprise, the sushi was mild, just the way he normally enjoyed it. He ate the rest without hesitation, taking his time to savour it. Fish was a limited commodity. Even with all they managed to save and freeze from the grocery store'; they couldn't have it as often as he would have liked.

"We have a lot to do today," Fuji commented genially as he turned another page of his manga. "I hope you can keep up."

A part of him was affronted by that comment until he realised that perhaps Fuji wasn't referring to that thing he'd mentioned a few nights before. "What exactly do we have to do?"

Fuji leaned closer to him, as if imparting a secret he wanted the vast amount of nobody else around to hear. "We'll, it's a surprise. But, I still want to christen every room of this mall. We can do that tomorrow."

Hopefully not blushing, Tezuka pulled back slightly, narrowing his eyes in vague worry and distrust. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing you won't like." Fuji got to his feet and cleared their dishes away. He whistled happily to himself, walking with an extra bounce in his step. Nothing Fuji was doing right then was not worrisome.

Fuji reached behind the counter and pulled out a package. He presented it to Tezuka with a wide, expectant smile. "Happy Birthday."

He took the gift warily; not knowing what Fuji could possibly have given him. He tore open the paper with caution, and was surprised to see the racquet he'd admired on their first day in his hands. He tested the tension by habit, this time unsurprised to note that it was perfect. The grip tape was wrapped around the handle with precision. "You didn't pay for this," Was the first thing he thought to say.

Chuckling, Fuji looked at him with an amused expression on his face. "I've become quite the shoplifter since we've met."

"Thank you," he said at last, deciding that it was probably the response that he should have had to begin with, despite the fact that he couldn't do anything with the racquet now than he could when he first saw it. He could have taken it anytime, but he only now considered it his after Fuji had wrapped it up, and handed it to him.

"My next birthday's four years from now. You can make it up to me then." Fuji meant every word he said.

"Of course." And so did he.

They stood there for a moment. Tezuka looked at his racquet, not quite ready to look at Fuji's face, which, he could tell, was trained on his. The tension inside was thicker than the mass of decomposing, yet walking, bodies outside. _Great_, Tezuka thought to himself, _my thoughts are starting to sound like Fuji's bad jokes._

He was jostled out of his internal debate when Fuji pulled on his arm. He led Tezuka out into the corridor, dragging him to the opposite end of the mall, where the perfume and woman's clothing stores were. He was about to ask why they were heading there of all places-and no he wasn't going to wear anything that resembled a skirt, for the last time-when he looked up and noticed what was different.

Set up in the middle of the floor, was a wide net. On the wall directly behind were two king-sized sheets painted with outdoor scenery. Green grass, yellow sun, and small blue birds decorating the sky. There were white lines painted on the floor. Seven of them, to be exact. There was a wooden chair parallel to the poll on one side, and setting inside of the chair was a giant Hello Kitty stuffed toy dressed in a black and white stripped shirt, with a black baseball cap on his head and a whistle hanging around its neck.

Fuji was already at the other end of the court, swinging his own racquet back and forth a few times.

"There's another gift at your feet, Tezuka," Fuji said as he tapped his fingers against the strings.

He bent down to pick up the gift, which he didn't even notice. Inside were four tubes of tennis balls. He took one of the canisters, and placed all but one of the balls into his pockets. They fit perfectly. These shorts were no accident, after all.

"You can play?" Tezuka couldn't help but ask. He wouldn't exactly mind teaching Fuji how to play if he needed to, but his whole body was itching for a match. A real one. He hadn't had a worthy opponent since he played in high school.

"A little," Fuji answered, walking up to the net. Tezuka joined him, and reached over to shake Fuji's hand. He couldn't deny that he was enjoying how Fuji was including all the pomp and circumstance of a match, even if the actual game would be against a relative amateur.

Tezuka placed the top of his racquet on the ground, twisting the handle slightly. "Rough or smooth?"

"Smooth," Fuji replied. "I know you prefer it rough."

Coughing a little, Tezuka focused instead on spinning the racquet, watching as it hit the floor. "Rough it is."

He tossed the ball up, hitting it across to the other side, not using as much power as he could, but enough so Fuji wouldn't think he was playing half-assed.

Fuji's eyes opened wide as the ball sailed to his side of the court, and executed a move that Tezuka had never seen before. The ball landed, and skittered off, never lifting from the ground. Fuji smirked at him, inclining his head.

Tezuka tightened his grip on his racquet, and served again, this time with more force and precision. Fuji got to the right side of the court, hitting it back with equal ferocity. They enjoyed a light rally when he hit another ball with topspin. Fuji returned it with the same unreturnable shot, ball skittering past his feet.

Game one went to Fuji, and he was practically wired with excitement as Fuji bounced the ball against the ground, getting ready to serve. He couldn't deny how much fun he was having, how focused he was becoming. Fuji dropped the ball towards the ground, and Tezuka took a moment to be disappointed that he was going to receive an underhand serve. That was short-lived, however, when he went to return it and only ended up swinging at air. He looked behind him, and saw the ball rolling down the floor of the mall.

It took two more tries, before he was able to return it, much to Fuji's obvious delight when he didn't make it time to catch up to his return. After carefully hitting the balls to Fuji, running less and less with each shot, he finally managed to use a move he hadn't had a need to use since he played for his school team. Fuji looked impressed, even as he lost the second game to Tezuka.

Tezuka hit the ball to the opposite side of the court, fingers twitching against the handle of his racquet. Fuji had already shown him moves he hadn't learned how yet to return. The ball hit the ground, Fuji unable to make it to that end in time to catch it, and the match was over. He was sweaty, panting, and delirious with the thrill of a good match. He leaned his racquet against the chair, and stalked over to where Fuji was standing, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. Fuji grinned at him, still slightly out of breath himself, and looked at him with wide eyes when Tezuka lifted him off the ground, and pressed him against the wall between two nearby stores. Fuji's legs wrapped around his waist, and arms tightly around his neck, without hesitation

He had so many questions he wanted to ask, the name of the moves, when he learned them, how to defeat them, just when could they play again, and could it be soon, but instead all he did was latch onto Fuji's lips, kissing and biting his lips until their breath was ragged, mouths wet and swollen.

They stumbled along the corridor, stopping every few steps to kiss, Fuji's hands wandering underneath his shirt, scratching his skin, and pinching at his nipples until his knees fought the desire to give out. He all but fell on top of Fuji the moment they made it to their bed, hastily stripping out their clothes which were wet and sticking to their skin with sweat.

Somehow, the way Fuji smelled right then made it _better_. He licked at Fuji's neck, almost eating the salt off his skin, leaving a bright red mark. Tezuka lifted his head only to find, and grab, the lubricant.

Fuji writhed, pushing down on his fingers as the slowly stretched him, but Fuji had no interest in slow. Truthfully, neither did he, but he was always cautious in this. Fuji looked at him, eyes wide and piercing, demanding him to hurry, because he wanted him _now_.

With one harsh thrust, Tezuka was inside, pounding hard and fast, movement increasing with each demand that fell from Fuji's lips. His skin felt ablaze, and Fuji's nails were scorching as they trailed down his back. Their skin slid together, wet and slick with sweat. Fuji wrapped on arm around the back of his neck, pulling him down only to latch his teeth on Tezuka's ear, sucking at the soft skin behind it.

His body tensed, coiling tighter with every thrust, and then he fell apart, collapsing against Fuji, who continued to arch against him, his cock pressing against Tezuka's belly until the wetness coated his already damp skin.

Fuji reached up for another kiss, only this one was languid, soft, and he laughed quietly as he pulled away. "We should have played tennis _weeks_ ago."

Rolling off Fuji, Tezuka laid on his back, lettings his fingers drift along Fuji's torso, playing with the light wisps of hairs that grew there, and shook his head. Tennis, he thought with contentment, had never been so exhilarating.

"What were those moves?" Tezuka asked when his breath returned to him.

Fuji laughed. "I was wondering when you'd get around to asking me. It's called the Swallow Return. Oh, and I also showed you my disappearing serve."

"There's more." Tezuka wasn't asking, but he didn't need to. Fuji wouldn't have shown his hand all in one game. No, not the Fuji he'd come to know.

"Do you think so?" Fuji asked lightly, but his smile gave it away. "I guess we'll have to play more to see."

"I'll hold you to it." Tezuka turned onto his side, placing his hand firmly on Fuji's chest, as if imprinting the promise onto his skin.

Fuji moved closer, until he was almost under Tezuka's body. "Will you, now?"

"We can't play tennis up here," Tezuka reasoned, wondering why Fuji brought up their gear in a duffle bag up onto the roof.

Fuji stuffed a few balls into his pocket and grabbed his racquet on the way over to the ledge. "Depends on what game you're playing."

"Do I want to ask?" Tezuka looked at the pair of binoculars Fuji had just shoved into his hands sceptically.

Smiling, Fuji threw one ball into the air. "Blue!" And with that, he hit the ball forcefully into the crowd below. Tezuka had followed the path of the ball, watching as it lodged into the head of a man wearing a blue necktie.

Fuji took the binoculars out of his hands, and passed him a racquet. "Your turn."

"Fuji," he started, but the look in Fuji's eyes told him that to not play the game would be conceding defeat. He had a feeling that losing to Fuji would be a bad idea.

"Red!" He slammed the ball into the crowd, knocking the thing to the ground under its force. Fuji lowered the binoculars to look at him, the flame of competition burning brightly in his eyes.

"My turn," Fuji said cheerfully. "Plus, these balls aren't good for playing anymore. To simply throw them away would be a _waste_. Green!"

"I have a feeling that you don't care so much about wasting things. Black."

Fuji laughed. "Didn't you say the other day that I idle way my hours killing the dead? Yellow!"

"It seems pointless. White." He could almost hear Fuji saying in a singsong voice, _But I'm bored_.

"It is rather like beating a dead horse, isn't it?" Fuji said with a wink. "Blue."

Tezuka put down his racquet. "Fuji, do you realise we need to start thinking about what to do?"

"I know," Fuji answered, sounding serious. "It's rather a grave situation."

Tezuka and Fuji looked at each other for a moment, not saying a word until Fuji's lips began twitching, and he clutched his belly as he laughed. Tezuka fought the chuckle that wanted to erupt from his throat at what he considered the worst pun Fuji had used yet.

"Sorry," Fuji said between gulps of air. "I just…I couldn't not say it."

Rolling his eyes, Tezuka looked over the crowd. "Brown."

Two weeks later, Tezuka was in bed, reading a technical manual on how to install wiring when the electricity went out. A few blinks later, and the generator kicked on, but only with minimal lighting. He looked over at Fuji, who was reading the _Odyssey_, and gave him a look.

"How long do you think the generator will last?"

Fuji shrugged. "I don't know."

Tezuka put his book aside, and Fuji did the same, before turning and placing his head on his chest. They were silent for a few minutes, nothing more than the sound of their breathing in the room.

"Tezuka, do you think we can fight our way to the army base down by the airport?"

Tezuka looked at Fuji for a moment, thoughtfully, and supposed if they were properly armed, had some diversions. There was always that minivan near the door. They'd have a chance. "Yes, why?"

Fuji drew little circles on his chest, smiling faintly as he did. "Well, they have helicopters. We could steal one, and head to some island in the Pacific."

Tezuka put his hand over Fuji's. "We _are_ on an island in the Pacific."

Fuji rolled his eyes. "I know, I know, but I was thinking of going to one without dead things everywhere."

Ignoring that last statement, Tezuka instead focused on the idea itself. "I have a few ideas. We'll need to find a way to get through the crowd. Start a few fires, maybe? We'll definitely need to leave at night."

Sitting up suddenly, Fuji crawled on top of him, straddling his waist. "At night? I've always wanted to try out the infrared guns."

Tezuka looked up at Fuji, who was animatedly talking about which guns he could now try out and where he remembered seeing the night-vision goggles, and Tezuka couldn't help but lean up and kiss Fuji on the side of the mouth.

Fuji stopped speaking for a moment, looking at him with a fond expression, and leaned down, whispering in his ear. "Did I tell you I found a _flamethrower?_ It was in the sports store's backroom. Con. Tra. Band."

Pulling Fuji down on the bed, Tezuka rolled on top of him. They could work out their plan of escape tomorrow.

End.


End file.
